


if the fates allow

by fineskylark



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Christmas fic, F/F, Fluffy, light zadison, misty is flirty and cordelia is pining, rated m but it’s more light m, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 22:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17252636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineskylark/pseuds/fineskylark
Summary: something about christmas makes everything seem more magical, doesn't it?





	if the fates allow

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked by a couple people to write a Christmas fic, and this is what I came up with. I meant to post it before Christmas, but at least I'm getting it up 10 minutes before 2019, right (despite the timestamp, I still stand by this)?
> 
> Credit for a particular Cordelia headcanon goes to kathyisweird - see end of fic notes for which one. :)

* * *

“You know,” Misty begins, taking a sip of steaming hot cocoa. “This is technically our first Christmas together.”  
  
Cordelia chokes on the sweet, hot liquid and fumbles her mug, fingers desperately grasping at the ceramic so it won’t slip and fall to the floor. Scalding cocoa spills over the edges and burns her fingers, but the frazzled witch hardly notices. _Smooth move, Supreme_ , she inwardly curses herself, vainly attempting to regain her composure.  
  
“Well, actually, it’s my first Christmas with anyone other than my family. An’ that wasn’t much of a holly jolly time,” Misty continues with a smirk, either unaware of Cordelia’s overt clumsiness or ignoring it, chalking it up to the Supreme’s normal skittish behavior around her. If it had been anyone else, the remark might come off as self-deprecating or bitter, but Misty makes her statement in the same way one would remark on the weather or the seasonal holiday traffic.  
  
It’s a couple days before Christmas and the Coven has cleared out for the holidays, with most of the students not scheduled to return until classes resume in January. Along with Cordelia’s Council, Misty, and Madison, there is a handful of young girls who will be spending their holiday season at the school.  
  
“Do y’think the girls will wanna make Christmas cookies with me?” Misty asks hopefully, blue eyes shining in earnest.  
  
“Most of them miss their families terribly this time of year, Misty. I’m sure they would love nothing more,” Cordelia smiles, enjoying the way Misty’s high cheekbones flush pink under her confident assurance. _You’re so wonderful, you’re so sweet, I love you so much_ goes unsaid, but with the way Misty is looking at her, Cordelia is half-sure it’s written all over her face anyway.

* * *

Two days later, six of the Coven’s younger witches gather around Misty, who demonstrates to them the importance of each ingredient in the same way she normally describes various properties of plant life in the greenhouse. “This little box of magic is our baking powder,” she explains with a grin, shaking the orange box until loose, white powder dusts the faces of the giggling girls standing closest to her. “This is usually made from cream of tartar and starch, and acts as a leavening agent, which allows our dough to rise.”  
  
For the next half hour, Misty entertains her young entourage while Cordelia calls her final meeting with the Council until after the New Year. Plans for the following semester were established several months prior, so the three head witches spend their meeting reviewing new goals, future curriculum, and ideas for building expansion. Satisfied with their productivity and sensing Queenie and Zoe’s eagerness for the holidays, Cordelia officially closes the meeting by summoning three glasses of eggnog.  
  
Raising her cup in celebration, she addresses them. “Thank you, girls, for your dedication to this Coven. Thank you for your knowledge, your teachings, and your attentiveness to our new girls. I would not be half the Supreme I am without you as my Council.”  
  
“Girl, we been knew,” Queenie jokes, tapping her glass against Cordelia’s. “Merry Christmas, Miss Supreme.”  
  
Eventually, what is left of the household gathers in the dining room for a Yule Eve celebration. Zoe and Queenie’s students latch onto their two favorite teachers, begging them to try their homemade, decorated cookies. The two witches happily snack on melting Santa faces, questionable Christmas trees, and decorative ornaments that more closely resemble bubbling lava pits of icing than actual decorations.  
  
“I made this one for you,” Misty tells Cordelia, grininning mischievously as she holds up a delicate plate containing one, single cookie. The shape of the cookie is a standard, doughy cut-out of a bell, generic in every way - except. Except the center of the cookie contains a bright pink heart, traced in sugary icing with careful fingers. The outline of the bell is adorned with green leaves and red berries, while inside the confectionary heart is a simple “C.”  
  
Cordelia’s heart stutters violently in her chest, her gaze moving between the cookie and the shining, blue eyes of the Cajun witch standing in front of her. On impulse, Cordelia presses her lips to Misty’s cheek and allows herself a second or two of calm. Breathing in the heady, floral scent of Misty’s thick curls, she winds one arm around the girl to pull her into a tight side hug and uses the other to accept the proffered cookie.  
  
“I love it,” she replies, voice choking with emotion.  
  
The two women hold each other close, slowly relaxing into the shared embrace as the sounds of Christmas reverie echo in the background. Someone flips on an iPod and holiday music filters through the mansion, accentuated only by the younger girls’ laughter as they race up the stairs to their bedrooms, wanting to be good for Santa. If witches are real, they rationalized, why not an unknown magic man who drops off presents in the middle of the night?

* * *

The five head witches curl up in front of the roaring fireplace, drinking their spiked hot toddies, warm eggnog, and - in Madison’s case - champagne straight from the bottle.  
  
Misty sits close to Cordelia, par for the course, with one hand resting casually on the Supreme’s shoulder. The plate in front of them is now empty, save for a few wayward crumbs and some pink icing. Never one to let any amount of food go to waste, Misty uses one long finger to scrape the remaining icing off the chinaware and brings it to her mouth, sliding it between pink, parted lips.  
  
_Forgive me, Hecate, for I have sinned_ , Cordelia thinks miserably, trying to ignore the warmth blooming in her stomach, creating an ache deep and low in her core.  
  
She forces herself to listen as the other girls chatter on about their Christmases past, with Madison currently in the middle of a horrifying story about her mother, cocaine, and a stripper in a Santa suit.  
  
“No wonder you’re so fucked up,” Queenie says, although there’s none of the past malice in her tone.  
  
“Tell me about it,” Madison replies, rolling her eyes and taking another swig from the bottle. “I’ll take this boring, holiday shit over that life any day.”  
  
Behind them in the center of the living room, several of the older students are laughing and dancing to the upbeat holiday music flowing from the speakers. The dim lighting lends a gentle feeling to the atmosphere, and the lights from their tree twinkle merrily throughout the room. Magic, it seemed, had definitely found its way to Miss Robichaux's this year.  
  
Misty stretches her arms above her head and pops her shoulder, curling her bare feet up underneath her body until she’s so close to Coredelia that the older witch can feel one toe brushing softly against her thigh. “Are ya ticklish, Miss Cordelia?” Misty half-whispers, laughing when Cordelia shivers unconsciously, reflexively digging her fingers into Misty’s strong leg muscle. The Cajun witch teasingly flexes her toes again, enjoying the way the stoic headmistress squirms against her. Misty presses her sharp chin into Cordelia’s shoulder, her smile indenting itself into the smooth skin of the Supreme’s neck. “I think you are,” she confirms with a final graze of her foot, laughing when Cordelia jumps again.  
  
This is not the first time Misty has flirted with Cordelia, oh no. This is a time honored, continuous torture, one Cordelia has endured on a near daily basis since the witch’s return from hell. She’d lost count of the number of times Misty’s hands lingered on her body, sometimes as a teasing brush of fingers against her back, an affectionate caress against her cheek, or a hug that bordered on more of an _embrace_ than anything else.  
  
But this is simply _Misty_ , Cordelia reminds herself. She is an affectionate person. She was a child born into a coldly religious family before being forced into a self-imposed isolation, and that isolation rendered her starved for human touch. Tactile and warm, she is caring and tender to everyone she comes into contact with.  
  
If she chooses to sit next to Cordelia at every meal, well, they _are_ closest in age, after all. Kindred spirits in botany, they instinctively gravitate towards one another, and have ever since Misty’s initial arrival at the academy. It is only natural for them to be close - Misty had turned to dust in her arms, the very same arms that held her tightly upon her return. And if Cordelia is unconditionally, stupidly in love with her, well, she’ll just have to suffer that truth silently and alone.  
  
Around them, the air vibrates with Christmas magic. The older students had encouraged their teachers to join in on their festive singing and dancing under the twinkling lights, and before Cordelia has time to think about what she’s getting herself into, she allows Misty to take her by the hand and tug her onto the carpeted dance floor.  
  
“Come on, Miss Supreme,” Misty says with a wide grin, twirling Cordelia outward before pulling her back in close, “let’s see your Yuletide spirit.”

* * *

As the night creeps closer to midnight, the witches start filing up the stairs, exhausted, excited, and anxious for the following morning. Once the house is quiet, Cordelia enlists in the help of Zoe and together, they carry present after present down from the attic and arrange them prettily under the tree. Anticipation takes root in Cordelia’s heart at the thought of her girls trampling down the stairs on Christmas morning and seeing all the gifts waiting for them. Queenie even sets aside a couple presents for the one witch who celebrates Kwanzaa, including a mini drum set and two traditional, colorful matching kaftans for them to wear, something she brushes off with an embarrassed shrug when Cordelia expresses pride in her thoughtfulness.  
  
“Wow, Miss Cordelia, you sure do know how to wrap a present,” Misty remarks, one eyebrow cocked in amusement as she surveys the rapidly growing pile growing under the tree. “These are damn near works of art.”  
  
Madison snorts, crossing her lean arms and rolling her eyes to the heavens. “Bitch is obsessed,” she scoffs, “ _no one_ is allowed to help our Reigning Supreme with her gift wrapping.”  
  
Cordelia blushes fiercely, ducking her head and rearranging an elaborate, gold bow on one of the packages. “I just want things to be perfect for the girls who stayed here with us,” she says quietly, glancing up and making embarrassed eye contact with Misty. She offers a small shrug and finalizes the bow’s positioning, wiping gold glitter from her palms as she stands and faces the other witches. “It’s what I wanted when I was younger, anyway.”  
  
“Oh, jeez,” Madison gags, setting her bottle down and heading for the staircase. “Save the ‘poor me’ past melodrama for Christmas Day, at least.” Waggling her fingers in a brief goodnight, she glides up the stairs and moves towards her room, turning to raise one eyebrow in Zoe’s direction.  
  
“Yeah, um so… Merry Christmas, guys!” Zoe says, feigning a deep yawn. “See you bright and early, I can’t wait.” And with that, she thrusts the final packages into Cordelia’s arms and heads to the stairs, barely pausing to wave behind her as she races up behind Madison.  
  
“Well, that was subtle,” Misty laughs, taking a final sip of her spiked hot chocolate and setting the empty mug on the coffee table. Cordelia nods in amusement, bending to arrange the last of her gifts while Misty flops down onto the couch and pulls a soft knitted afghan over her shoulders. After a couple minutes, Cordelia is finally satisfied with the gift presentations and takes a seat next to Misty, leaning her head on the taller woman’s shoulder and admiring the picturesque scene before them. Misty wordlessly extends the blanket so it wraps around Cordelia, as well, and Cordelia feels her heart stir in her chest at the casual gesture. Burrowing herself deeper into Misty’s side, she sighs contentedly.  
  
The glow of the tree flickers around them as peaceful quiet finally settles in, a sense of calm filling the space within the room. They sit alone, relaxed, breathing together in and out as they listen to the low Christmas melodies still coming from the speakers. As an unfamiliar string quartet band begins playing an emotional instrumental version of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” Cordelia buries her face into Misty’s neck and breathes in deeply before quietly muttering a short incantation, one small prayer meant to provide protection and peace.  
  
“Can I show you something?” Misty asks unexpectedly, whispering her question into the sensitive skin around Cordelia’s ear.  
  
“Yes,” Cordelia agrees with a shiver, pulling back slightly to stare up at the younger witch. Earnest, kind, blue eyes gaze into inquisitive brown ones, and she puts up no resistance when Misty tugs her into a standing position.  
  
Without saying a word, Misty pulls Cordelia through the dining room and kitchen, and Cordelia recognizes she is being led towards the greenhouse. The house is dark and quiet, with the only sound being their own soft steps on the hardwood floors. Misty stops suddenly in front the door, briefly turning to face the Supreme before stepping forward and placing a lingering kiss against her cheek. “Happy Yule Eve, Cordelia,” Misty murmurs, folding her hand into Cordelia’s and finally opening the door to the greenhouse.  
  
“Oh, Misty,” Cordelia gasps, letting go of her hand and taking a step forward, turning her head to survey the room. “Oh, wow, this is stunning,” she whispers, emotion catching in her throat. The greenhouse is flourishing as usual, with vines and plants unfurling in thick troves - now, however, fine, twinkling lights decorate each plant; fairy lights wind tightly around individual stems, tiny sparks flickering brightly from the hanging ferns. There is an ethereal feeling to the room, as though they’ve stepped outside of the house and into their own planet. Colorful holiday lights line the ceiling, twisting down the exposed pipes on the wall, and everywhere Cordelia looks there are large, red poinsettias sprouting from plant baskets glistening with red lights.  
  
“Do ya like it?” Misty asks, following closely behind the Supreme as she turns in slow circles to take it all in. “Don’t worry about the plants. I enchanted them so they wouldn’t get hurt from any of the wires or decorations.”  
  
“Like it?” Cordelia laughs in disbelief, turning to face Misty. “I _love_ you.”  
  
Time stops then, and everything is suddenly thrust into slow motion. The surrounding lights provide an otherworldly glow as the two witches stare at each other, Misty’s chest heaving slightly as she breathes in, out. Cordelia briefly looks surprised at her own admission, and then she simply relaxes her face into acceptance.  
  
“You love _me_? Or you love… what I made for you?” Misty asks with a furrowed brow, taking a couple steps forward until she’s standing directly in front of Cordelia. She brings one shaky hand to cup Cordelia’s chin, gently forcing eye contact, needing to see the truth in her face - because Cordelia is a master at hiding her emotions, has been ever since Misty met her, a product of her upbringing and a skill she’s perfected over time.  
  
“Both,” Cordelia sighs.  
  
“Well,” Misty hums, “okay, then.”  
  
And then Misty kisses her. Her palms press into Cordelia’s cheeks and she pulls the startled witch towards her, fervently capturing her mouth in a kiss that has Cordelia trembling from the inside out. Cordelia immediately wraps her arms around Misty’s waist, anchoring herself to the woman as her knees start to shake from under her. Cordelia is only vaguely aware of the moans escaping her own throat - Misty’s hands are sliding through her hair, nails lightly raking at her scalp - and she opens her mouth, gently brushing their tongues together for the first time.  
  
Soft, pink lips meld into plump coral over and over again as they cling to each other, pushing their bodies together in a mutual effort to _feel_ each other all over. “I do love you,” Cordelia whispers again, gasping honest words into Misty’s open mouth, her hot breath caressing against Misty’s tongue as they kiss. Cordelia’s fingers dig deep into her lover’s spine and she pulls her flush against her, desperately sinking her teeth into the soft, pale skin of Misty’s neck and biting until purple flesh rises to the surface. With each bite, Misty’s grip loosens in Cordelia’s hair, overwhelming sensations of lust and love blazing through her veins like wildfire. It was like throwing a match into gasoline - they ignited together, and there was no stopping the explosion between them.  
  
Cordelia backs Misty into a sturdy wooden table, waving one hand to clear it of the books and clutter taking up too much valuable space. With surprising strength for someone of her stature, the Supreme lifts Misty and brings her to rest atop the wooden surface. Misty lets out a startled, breathy chuckle, and Cordelia allows Misty exactly half a second to recover before she yanks her forward once again. And then they’re kissing so fully and deeply that Cordelia is pretty sure she could survive off of this alone - food and water be damned.  
  
She groans as two long legs wrap around her waist and draw her closer, Misty hooking her ankles around the Supreme and pressing their bodies tightly together. _Madness_ , Cordelia thinks fleetingly, _this is pure madness_. And then Misty’s lips are on her neck and her breath is hot against her, and Cordelia shivers violently as Misty palms her breast with one deft hand while simultaneously biting down on her skin - _hard_ \- nipping at her collarbone over and over before soothing the marks with a gentle swipe of her tongue.  
  
Cordelia’s not sure how long they stay like that, wrapped up in each other and exchanging full, breathless kisses, marking each other with fierce tenderness. With immense effort, she pulls back from Misty and rests their foreheads together. Breathing heavily, Cordelia brushes her nose against Misty’s and is unable to resist pressing another featherlight kiss to her lips. When she looks up into Misty’s eyes, she sees the other witch watching her with what could only be described as pure adoration.  
  
But even still - she has to know.  
  
“Misty?” she whispers, keeping their eyes locked. “How do you - I mean, well, do you love me, too?” She hates the vulnerability in her voice ( _weakness, her mother would call it_ ) and wishes she could strain her words, eliminate the fear of rejection from leaking into her question.  
  
Misty stares at her for a second, twisting her mouth into a wry grin before leaning forward and capturing Cordelia’s lips in another heated, tender kiss. “I have one more thing to show ya,” she says by way of reply, “but you’re gonna need your coat.”

* * *

“Misty, what are we doing out here?” Cordelia asks, teeth chattering as the cold winter winds whip around them. “It’s _freezing_.”  
  
“I already told ya, I have somethin’ else to show you.” Misty squeezes her hand and they continue walking around the side of the house, heading for the backyard. Cordelia can’t bring herself to complain too much - her gloved hand is wrapped around Misty’s and the younger witch is donning a long, black wool coat, looking so positively endearing that it’s all Cordelia can do to keep from grabbing her by her lapels and kissing her until they’re both warm again.  
  
They finally walk into the academy’s backyard and Cordelia sees… nothing. It looks exactly the same as it always has. She turns to look questioningly at Misty but when she does, she sees the witch standing with her eyes closed, a concentrated look on her face as she mutters a quiet incantation under her breath. Suddenly, there’s a flash of light, and magic crackles in the air around them. It is distinctly Misty’s magic, all pure and earthy and white, and it’s dizzying in its intensity. Cordelia is so caught up in watching Misty that she doesn’t notice the luminescent glow growing brighter and brighter around them until Misty opens her eyes and smiles.  
  
“Merry Christmas, darlin’,” she says, and Cordelia finally turns and gasps. There, in the backyard, is an absolutely enormous pine tree. She’s not sure how she didn’t notice it before, perhaps because it’s dark and it’s tucked in the back of the yard with all the other trees - except now, it’s lit up with thousands of tiny, sparkling bulbs. Gold and silver and white, with sprinkles of red and green gleaming through its limbs. Moving closer, Cordelia sees Misty had enchanted glittering twines of garland to wrap around the trunk, coiling upwards and disappearing between the branches.  
  
“Oh Misty,” she sighs, unable to stop her tears from welling over this time. “It’s beautiful.”  
  
“I grew it for you,” Misty admits, clutching Cordelia’s gloved hand even more tightly. “And decorated it for you, with magic of course. I was really strugglin’ with what to give you. All I knew was it had to be special, because you’re special.” She brings her other hand to Cordelia’s cheek, letting her mittens absorb the woman’s fallen tears. “And I do. Love you, I mean. I love you.”  
  
Cordelia chokes out a laugh and sob all at once, giving into her previous urge and tugging Misty by her coat’s lapels into a warm kiss. Their lips are cold against each other but then Misty’s mouth opens slightly, and Cordelia slides her tongue in between parted lips. Misty keeps her hand on Cordelia’s cheek and kisses her back slowly, with intention. When they break apart, Misty pulls Cordelia into her side and they tilt their heads together, staring up at the tree for a long while before turning and making their way back inside the house.

* * *

The next morning, Cordelia wakes to the sound of excited shrieks coming from up and down the hallways. “Did Santa come?!” she hears one little girl yell. “Zoe, _did Santa come?!_ ” Cordelia can’t hear Zoe’s reply but sits up on the bed and stretches out her body, popping her muscles and groaning in satisfaction.  
  
“If ya keep makin’ those sounds, we won’t ever be decent enough to leave this bed,” a voice rasps from the other side of the mattress. Cordelia looks down to see Misty leaning up on one elbow, hair a wild mass of tangled, blonde curls. Her blue eyes crinkle in the early morning light, sleep still etched into her features. To Cordelia, she’s never looked more beautiful.  
  
“We won’t be decent enough anyway,” the Supreme counters teasingly. “I’m gonna need to wear at least three turtlenecks if I have a chance at hiding all these marks.” She peers down at her naked chest and tries in vain to see the purple bruises she knows are covering her neck.  
  
“Aw, where’s the fun in that?” Misty replies, pulling Cordelia back down into her arms. “Let everyone see what a stud I am,” she jokes, pressing a kiss into Cordelia’s hair.  
  
“At least they’re all used to you wearing layers,” Cordelia says, tracing one finger over a particularly dark spot on Misty’s clavicle. “I’m so fucked.”  
  
“I’ll make it worth your trouble,” Misty promises with a wicked grin, sliding her hand up Cordelia’s stomach and lightly rubbing her thumb under the soft swell of her breast. “I promise.”  
  
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Cordelia assures her. The sounds of the waking house are louder now as the girls eagerly congregate in the hallway, waiting to receive permission from the older witches that it is time to come downstairs.  
  
Cordelia allows herself one more minute of calm with Misty, holding her close and listening to steady rhythm of the heartbeat thumping under her ear. Using one fingertip, she traces an outline of a heart on Misty’s skin before slowly adding the letter “M” to the middle of the shape. She repeats this action over and over until Misty finally giggles in understanding and grabs her hand, pressing a kiss to Cordelia’s palm.  
  
“Merry Christmas, Cordelia. I love you.” Cordelia burns pleasantly from the inside out, and she has the distinct feeling she’ll never get used to hearing Misty tell her she loves her.  
  
“I love you, too, my dearest Misty. Merry Christmas."

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Thanks to kathyisweird for her headcanon about Cordelia’s perfectionist gift wrapping.
> 
> You can send me prompts on CuriousCat (https://curiouscat.me/macncheeze) or Tumblr (http://michaelawaffles.tumblr.com/ask). You can also find me on Twitter at @michaelawaffles.


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